A Short Story

As the sun climbed to its highest point he realized he wasn’t sweating anymore. This was probably the end. The wind, rather than providing cooling relief, relentlessly blasted his face like the old gas heater in his grandparents’ house. At first the sand was annoying, getting inside his clothes, his water bottle, his food, his pack...it was everywhere. Now, the water and food were gone, so that didn’t really matter anymore. But the wind driven sand recommitted it’s soul-quenching effort and focused instead on sandblasting the few remaining patches of uncalloused skin.

He looked around at the band of people who looked to him for leadership. They looked malnourished and beyond weary. He was pretty sure that most of them had lost confidence in him. Why shouldn’t they? He was often the voice of one calling in the wilderness, urging them to stay together and keep moving forward. And look where that had gotten them.

Some had already wandered off in search of greener pastures...literally. Those who remained were supportive with the words but their eyes told a different story. He knew it was just a matter of time. He didn’t have anything left. His encouragement was empty rhetoric, he wasn’t sure he even believed it anymore. He wasn’t really the leader anyway. He was just another member of the group. Some expected him to lead, some needed him to and others, well they just saw it differently. He was tired of trying to figure out who was who in the mix.

It had been five years since he and his family were forced into the wilderness. At first he was lost and terrified. The landscape was harsh and unforgiving and more nights than not he lie awake wondering if tomorrow would bring destruction.

Over time the landscape grew more familiar and he even learned to notice the small mercies. It took some time but eventually his eyes grew accustomed to noticing the occasional wildflower defiantly blooming against a seemingly lifeless backdrop. He learned where to search for water and food, sometimes naturally available but more often left as small supply drops from their true leader. It was strange and unexpected but with time he even learned to appreciate the beauty of this untamed wilderness.

Spectacular sunsets, crafty wildlife and those enigmatic flowers all took on a sacred aura. More and more often he found himself feeling sorry for those who were numbed by the comfort and security of home. Their senses were dulled to the majesty around them, just as his had been.

After a few years the small band of travelers expanded. They joined forces with other travelers and even sent an invitation back home to family to take the risky journey as well. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Their Leader would send periodic communication, giving marching orders and some encouragement. They were told to trust in the supply drops, He promised they would come as needed. They were never promised an over abundance of supplies - after all, they were on the move and couldn’t carry more than a few days provision at a time.

As he surveyed the exhausted faces he began to wonder if they were really receiving supplies as needed. They were still alive, but just barely. He understood the concept of traveling light. It made sense, he was on board...and he did his best to keep others on board as well. Most everyone struggled with it at times, himself included, but all in all the group got the picture.

Had he tricked everyone, himself included, into a death sentence? Lately the supplies were meager at best. Everyone was so hungry that even few bites shared among them seemed like a feast, but when it was over he realized they’d only eaten enough to stave off starvation, not enough to be filled and energized. So they’d stumble forward until the point of collapsing only to find another small stash. He still saw the flowers and they were nice, but you can’t eat or drink a flower and to be honest, they were starting to get on his nerves. They were just going to burn up in the afternoon heat anyway.

It reminded him of what his father used to say about fishing, you get a bite every now and then and its just enough to keep you from going home. He remembered how many times he’d spent an entire day fishing without catching anything, but true to his father’s words, every time he started to pack up he’d get a strike on his line and the adrenaline would start pumping. On and on this cycle went, but at the end of the day, there were no fish on the stringer to reward his efforts.

Sure they were still getting the minimum they needed to survive and he was glad that they hadn’t yet buried anyone who’d died of starvation or dehydration. But was this the grand adventure? Thriving seemed like a myth from an ancient culture, something that made a good plot line for a children’s bedtime story, but not something which they were going to experience again. No, mere survival was about all they could hope for and even that was beginning to seem like just a delaying of the inevitable. He was pretty sure he couldn’t continue the hard journey on minimal rations much longer and the faces of his companions told him he was not alone.

He couldn’t give up. He loved his companions too much. He was bound to them and would do whatever he could for them. But he wondered how long it would be before they felt betrayed and in despair turned on him and killed him. He wouldn’t blame them, he didn’t even plan to stop them when it happened. In fact, it would be a welcomed release from this burden.

But for the moment, the battered man continued trudging forward...

-------

The sun dawned over the horizon and almost immediately the temperature began to climb. The battered man awoke and stared at the sky for a few moments. Another day had dawned and he was still not dead. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring up at the sky before he noticed the figure sitting nearby.

“What are you doing?”

The man said nothing for a moment.

“What are you doing?” the figure repeated.

“Surviving...at least I’m trying to.”

“No, you’re just waiting. You say you’re waiting for rescue but you act like you’re waiting for death.”

“I thought that was what I was supposed to do. Depend on the Leader for rescue...you told me that yourself. I’ve been told repeatedly not to attempt to do it on my own power.”

That was what all the sages had told the man. He should learn to depend completely on the Leader, not trying to do things himself because it would just lead to defeat. He was always told to trust patiently because the Leader often waited to act until there was no explanation for victory other than his deliverance.

The visitor was silent.

The man continued looking straight ahead. “What am I supposed to be doing here?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to thrive. I want to succeed...but I’m not sure what success even looks like anymore.”

“So, why aren’t you?”

“Are you serious? I’ve been struggling for survival, waiting for something, some assistance, deliverance, something...anything.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“Look, if you’ve come to taunt me, there’s a long line.”

“I didn’t come to taunt you. I came to remind you.”

“Of what?”

“Who you are.”

“Who I am? I know who I am, I just don’t see how being me is sustainable.”

“That’s one of the dumbest things I’ve heard you say. And I’ve heard you say a lot of dumb things.”

“That’s helpful. If you’re here to remind me of something, get on with it because I’m tired.”

“I know. It takes a lot of energy to pretend you’re a victim. You were told to trust the Leader. You were told to rely on His strength rather than your own. But you were never told to ignore what you’ve been given, how you’ve been trained and what you were sent to do.

Get up and remember. You have been brought safely through many trials. You have passion, vision, resourcefulness. These people you feel so burdened to lead are not here to be a drain...they are here to experience this journey with you, alongside you. You were given tools to lead, and they were given tools as well.

You are a warrior, not a victim. There is a difference between depending on your own strength and using the gifts entrusted to you. They don’t come from you, they come from our Leader. This pity party is getting old. It isn’t helping you and its an insult to everyone who has invested time, energy and tears into your preparation - especially the Leader.

Those who are sent are not sent empty handed. The time for complaining is over. The time for movement has arrived...It is time to remember."

“What do I do next?” the man said, but he knew without looking that the visitor was gone. It didn’t matter because he knew the answer to his own question. The next step was simply to deal with whatever came next.

It was a brief conversation, but something had already changed. He was no longer the battered man. He looked at his wounds and realized that most of them had already changed to scars. No longer painful, but still present to remind him of who he was and what he’d been through. The time for melodrama was over, he had work to do.

For the first time in a while, he smiled.

Do We Have Time for This?

My friend Chris left the following comment on my previous post. My response got long enough I decided it needed to be its own post!

What say you to folks out there who would respond with: "I'm too busy to share deep relationships with other people" and/or "Too many people have let me down throughout my life, and I'm not going to put myself on the line like that anymore"? 

Also, we talk a lot about how life in the suburbs seems to discourage (or at least make it really difficult) to share in communitas with others. How does life in the suburbs encourage such relationships?

First of all I'd say, I totally understand.

I've lost count of how many jobs I have and can't remember the last time I woke up without a list of things I had to get done yesterday. There's never a day that I think to myself, "I really have too much free time, I should develop some deeper relationships."

I also know all too well what it is like to be let down by people. We've put ourselves out there only to be burned on more occasions than I like to remember. We've totally thrown ourselves into the work of a church only to be put on the street without warning because a committee decided that paying off building debt was more important than my family.

So I get it. But as citizens of the new kingdom we have no choice in this matter. We can sit around feeling sorry for ourselves or worse yet, we can sit around feeling justified in our seclusion. But in the end the reality is simple. The Creator of the Universe has reached out and redeemed us and in turn has called us to serve as ambassadors for the renewed world.

The old-timers - like my mom ;) - used to tell me, "can't never could do nothin."

We are the people of hope. We must live that hope if it is going to mean anything at all. There is room for struggle and doubt, but there is no room for resigning ourselves to mediocrity and complacency with a status quo that is far from God's will being done on earth as it is in heaven.

To be clear, I'm not saying that everyone needs to dedicate 30 hours a week to an evangelism campaign or begin every conversation with, "Do you know Jesus as your personal savior?" Certainly the relationships we cultivate grow directly from our connection to Christ and our agenda is driven by our conviction that the kingdom of God is at hand.

That is why surface relationships can no longer suffice. Friendships may begin at a surface level and may even stay there for a while, but when we choose to leave them that way, the relationship (and we) fail to bear the mark of kingdom. I realize that it is scary and intimidating to put ourselves out there, risking rejection and frustration. But it is well worth the risk. Rejection is frightening, but isolation is flat out terrifying...and some of our friends and neighbors are silently gripped with terror.

I think that the suburbs are a very hard place to cast this vision. However, one reason that many people choose to live in the 'burbs is a desire to raise their kids in a more family focused community. We have dreams of the white picket fence and waving at our neighbors while we mow the lawn. That turns out, for the most part, to be a myth and culture quickly sells us on a more consumer friendly version of community. Instead of the picket fence and hand waving, we settle for facebook and drive-thru lattes. Instead of glasses of iced tea on the front porch everyone drives their car into a garage and watch TV inside until time to rush off to work or soccer practice.

However, perhaps with time we can reignite people's imagination for "a better life," one that is filled with meaning and substance rather than just filled with activity. However, this won't happen unless we are, at some level, embracing and experiencing such a life ourselves.

Thoughts from the New Orleans Airport...

Most of my travel these days involves long drives back and forth between Oklahoma City and Burleson. However, today I had the chance to fly down for a brief trip to New Orleans (landed at 8:40 this morning, heading home at 3:30). I performed a wedding for a young couple that I've known since we lived here and I was honored when they asked me to play a role in the sacred act of covenanting with one another in this way. Eating at The House of Blues was nice too...

Congratulations Jeffrey and Ashley LeBlanc, I pray (and believe) that you are entering into a lifetime of dwelling together with God.

Now I'm sitting in the airport terminal and for the first time in what seems like years, I have a few minutes to stop moving - which for me always means that my little brain has a chance to reengage momentarily.

A while back I posted a short story about a time that Conner helped Rachel and I think through the value of not marrying your sister...I know, sounds weird, but read about it here before you throw up in your mouth.

I realized through that exchange with my perceptive little six year-old that what is true in our families in marriage is also true for the church - we are meant to grow by grafting new people into our family tree rather than just being content to go from generation to generation with the same folks to whom we were already related.

We’ve had some experiences lately that have been bringing me back to that conversation. Over the last nine months or so, Rachel and I have been blessed to grow closer to the Chappotins through a deeper commitment to community born out of time of darkness and shared struggle (you may hear us refer to an experience such as this as "communitas"...which we have shamelessly stolen from Alan Hirsch). We’ve shared some intensive readings, periods of discernment, regular meals and missional excursions into our neighborhood. Its been great.

Recently Rachel and I began a similar process of scripture reading and discernment with my brother Adam and his wife Caroline. Each day we each read and meditate on a short passage of scripture (drawing on Eugene Peterson’s devotional guide, Solo) and then as we are struck with different realizations we send them around to everyone via email, face-to-face and phone conversations. This was one of the more powerful community building experiences that we’ve been through with Chris and Heidi, and I have to admit, I think its having a similar effect with Adam and Caroline.

Its cool because we haven’t moved on from our relationship with the Chappotins, we’ve simply embraced an opportunity to cultivate similar experiences with another couple. Realizing that we can actually count on friendships growing deeper through an honest process like this, I can’t help but wonder who God will bring us closer with next.

I encourage you to consider something like this with others in your community. They could be neighbors (followers of Jesus or not...wrestling with doubt and insecurity about passages is an important part of this process anyway), family members, co-workers...anybody. I feel confident that if you do, and are honest with each other, it will have impacts that you could never have anticipated. We don’t have to settle for surface level, transactional relationships anymore.

In his book, A Community Called Atonement, author Scot McKnight declares that whatever is true about the eventual fully realized kingdom of God, our atonement should prepare us for such a reality. In other words, we begin to live into that reality now, hopefully with increasing frequency and depth.

Jesus has instituted a new kingdom and a new kind of community...don’t make the mistake of thinking you have to wait for the resurrection to begin experiencing it. The resurrection is already beginning, we just have to open our eyes to the new reality.

To my favorite:

Once again you are shouldering more than your share. There are three very demanding boys (hopefully) sleeping right now...and you're likely cuddling at least one of them - if by cuddling we mean there are feet in your face, ribs, back, neck, knees...

Then there's the other demanding boy who is once again on the road.

I got spoiled to laying down next to you for two straight weeks, even if it was for just a couple hours at a time. After nearly ten years of marriage, I'm just plain spoiled to being near you...

Lot's of people are impressed by you, but I will always be your biggest fan. You are my favorite.

I hope you sleep well tonight and that the boys let you sleep late - like 6:30 or 7!

Love,

Me

The Traveling Companion: final episode

I just started my next to last class for my D.Min at Perkins - Spiritual Leadership in Missional Churches. One of our assignments is to keep a journal during the 2 weeks of class. I decided to blog mine...

After two great weeks, my time in class is over (until my FINAL class in January!), so this will be my final installment of "the traveling companion." Processing through these ideas with other leaders has been enriching. It has been particularly helpful to listen in on the comments between folks in more established contexts as they have begun to wrestle with how to help their congregation cultivate a missional identity. I often think through these concepts from the perspective of a someone forming new communities and planting new churches. However, the reality is that even when dealing with people with no background in church attendance there is still baggage to address and an intimidating process of change to undergo. The concerns and struggles that my friends and colleagues expressed has been extremely helpful as I think about our context...which is different, but perhaps not so different.

Today we engaged in an exercise meant to help us think through the emotional response a congregation has when deep level change is being considered. We were split into teams and blindfolded and then given a tent to set up. If you've ever had to set up a tent in the dark, which I have on several occasions (mostly due to my own poor planning and goofing off), you know that it is not always an easy task.

I've set up many tents in my life and have a good idea of the different types that are out there. I knew, as soon as we were told what we'd be doing that I had the information and experience to get this job done - maybe even blindfolded. There was a moment, when I first pulled the tent out of the bag (blindfolded) that I was nervous about being able to identify all the pieces and get them lined up correctly. I can imagine this response in a congregation that has been being prepared to shift toward a missional identity.

There is usually a period of instruction, through classes, book studies and a sermon series that takes place before any actual changes are suggested. In addition, churches may also conduct experiments and pilot programs to begin introducing people to the actual practice and to determine contextual nuances that must be considered.

However, as changes begin to be implemented on a larger scale, anxiety is common. There is that moment when you realize that, even with prior knowledge and preparation, we can't always see how everything is playing out or even know our final destination as we begin.

After that initial fear subsided in our little tent-making activity, a new anxiety began to threaten to settle in. My teammates knew that I've done a lot of camping and were expecting (in my mind anyway) for me to give them clear direction and an accurate information. What if the thing I thought was the tent's footprint (a piece of material shaped like the bottom of the tent to protect it from rocks and whatnot) was actually something else? What if we got halfway "finished" and we discovered that I'd been steering us wrong? How foolish would I look if Dr. Heath, who was observing the teams could see that the thing I was confidently describing was something entirely different?

From a leadership perspective, I know this feeling all to well. Whether we want it to be so or not, often people look to leaders to have a clear understanding of the change they're undertaking - especially if that leader has spent time cultivating in their own life what they're attempting to do with others. But the reality is, when we start congregational change (or a new endeavor with any group), we're all blindfolded to one degree or another. We are all experiencing many of the same limitations, regardless of prior learning or preparation.

Thankfully something my friend Dwight Robarts taught me several years ago was ringing in my head. "If you are going to be an effective leader, you need to strive to be a non-anxious presence." Each of us on the team played important roles in laying the tent out and lining everything up appropriately. My job wasn't to do all the work, it was to help the other teammates succeed in their respective tasks and not do anything to add to the anxiety of the situation. Over time our tent came together and, though it took a little longer, ended up pretty much the way it would have if we'd started without blindfolds.

We don't have to eliminate all the obstacles to our progress. If we will work together as a team, showing grace and patience with each other along the way, we can sort through our shortcomings in process.

The reality was that we weren't setting up camp for the night, it wasn't about to rain...it didn't really matter that the tent came together perfectly in quick fashion. The value and purpose for our class was found in the actual process of setting up the tent together.

Alan Hirsch refers to this as communitas - the process of journey through a shared struggle - and it is quite powerful. Perhaps, as leaders we need to remember this truth above many others. It isn't JUST our transition into a more missionally minded people that is important, the process itself - though sometimes painful and terrifying - can be a formative and transformative experience.

I pray that God will grant me the wisdom to resist the temptation to let the end result become more important to me than the experience of shared life with my community along the way.

Thank you Elaine, Develous, Sandy, Marci, Bev, John and Todd for being my community of co-teachers and co-learners these past two weeks. May God continue to richly bless you all.

The Traveling Companion: episode 8

I just started my next to last class for my D.Min at Perkins - Spiritual Leadership in Missional Churches. One of our assignments is to keep a journal during the 2 weeks of class. I decided to blog mine...

How is it with your soul?

This question represents the entire curriculum for an experience in early Methodism referred to as "class meetings." A small group of folks would gather regularly and each in turn would respond to this question. In our contemporary culture obsessed with information and "stuff" we may be tempted to respond that such a gathering would be a total waste of valuable time. If we're going to get people together shouldn't we try to get more accomplished? After all, people are busy, you know.

And such a response would be a huge mistake.

My friend and ministry coach, Anthony Parker, asks me questions like this regularly in our coaching sessions. To be totally honest, I have mixed responses to the question. At times I just don't want to get into it. Maybe I'm a little embarrassed about how it is with my soul. Perhaps the emotions are too raw and I'm not sure how well I can manage talking about it. Sometimes I know that opening that can of worms will take up all of our time and there are other things I (wrongly) feel are more pressing.

But to continue with my confession, even when I choose not to give full honest disclosure on how it is with my soul, I know that I'm short-changing myself. There are a lot of things that I don't know, but I have learned this much: it takes courage to stand up to my ego and address my brokenness, and when I lack that courage, every aspect of my life suffers.

I would not be surprised to learn that most people aren't as damaged or neurotic as I am, but I would be shocked if it came out that we don't all need to take the care of our souls more seriously. I am convinced that a regular time to gather in the name of Jesus to honestly assess how it is with our souls and deeply listen to how it is with others'; to engage in a time of confession, testimony and prayer within community would be more beneficial than many of the intricately designed and information heavy curriculums and programs we often implement.

The Traveling Companion: episode 7

I just started my next to last class for my D.Min at Perkins - Spiritual Leadership in Missional Churches. One of our assignments is to keep a journal during the 2 weeks of class. I decided to blog mine...

I knew exactly what he was going to ask me. It was bedtime and I was home, so the question was inevitable. The boy with the huge blue eyes and big gap where his two front teeth should be reached up and grabbed my face with both hands. "Daddy...magic TV?"

For the past year or so Conner, Micah and I have been on a journey with two young boys named Steve and Crazy. Steve is very tall and Crazy is very, well...crazy. They live in a special house. In this house there are lots of rooms and in each room there are lots of tv's. There are big tv's and small tv's. Black-and-white tv's, color tv's and rainbow tv's. There are rectangle tv's and round tv's. There are flat tv's and fat tv's. There are tv's that hang on the wall and tv's that sit on a table. But there is one tv more special than all the others. In fact, you could say that its a magic tv. You can't find this tv if you're looking for it...and actually, you can only find this tv if you aren't looking for anything at all. But, whenever you watch this tv you find yourself inside the story. (Micah named this unchanging part of the story, "the commercial." Conner loves it and Micah always wants to skip it and get to the good part.)

Each night Steve and Crazy watch a show - sometimes its a cartoon that Conner and Micah enjoy, like Phineas and Ferb, the Backyardigans or even the Smurfs (yep, our boys know about the Smurfs). Sometimes its a show about dinosaurs, ninja's, jungles, outer space or a combination of several. And each time Steve and Crazy must help the characters in the show finish the episode. Sometimes things go wrong, sometimes things are just plain silly. We never know what's going to happen (seriously, I make it up as I go).

Crazy never says anything that makes sense - he is crazy after all. Micah usually has some random statement that he wants Crazy to say...and since it doesn't make any sense its usually pretty easy to fit it in!

These stories can be exhausting...how many different plot lines can a guy come up with after all? But I keep telling them because Conner and Micah truly love Steve and Crazy. Sometimes I get Conner to tell the story and I'm always amazed at how he already understands that a story has a beginning followed by some sort of crisis with twists that don't get resolved until the end. Micah hasn't been willing to tell any stories yet, but he has completely outlined several plots for me...

It had been a while since I read it last, so last night I looked back over Roxburgh's book The Missional Leader in preparation for our class discussions today. I'd forgotten just how good of a book it is - if you are a church leader considering ways to encourage your church to take seriously the call to actively live as the missionary people of God in your community, I highly recommend this book.

One of the passages I'd previously highlighted grabbed my attention. In it the author is describing the value and purpose of narrative in forming community.

A narrative has several characteristics. It comprises a story that is moving somewhere; it gives a social group a story that tells where it is going and what the group will look like when it arrives. There is purpose and quest within the narrative calling a group in a specific direction and toward a particular goal...Because narrative creates and sustains social community, it's the glue, the atmosphere of all social life. The key to innovating missional community is formation of a people within a specific memory and narrative. - The Missional Leader, 70-71.

I love that first bit - it comprises a story that is moving somewhere. I remember as a grad student at ACU and while preaching in New Orleans I was a part of several discussions about "narrative preaching." There are a number of folks who have a low view of the idea because they see it as "watered down." I was convinced then and remain so that this is primarily due to 1) bad examples of the narrative style and 2) misperceptions of the purpose and function.

For those that don't know distinctions between preaching styles, the traditional approach that many of us grew up hearing was expository preaching - the preacher takes a text of Scripture and "expounds" or teaches through it. Intro, 3 points, a poem and an invitation was typically the week-in-week-out format, at least in our Church of Christ circles.

Changing anything, even the format for your sermon delivery, usually results in a spike in the corporate blood pressure of a congregation. So when some preachers began telling stories with no acronyms or "that leads me to my next point" many people began to fear that the Bible was no longer being preached. And sometimes they were right.

Narrative preaching or proper use of narrative in general, is not meant to be merely the telling of entertaining or warm fuzzy stories. That isn't to say narratives aren't entertaining - in fact good storytelling is at the heart of most things that are truly entertaining.

However, a good narrative sermon tells a story that is moving (and moving us) somewhere. It connects with something lodged deep within us and by drawing it out, draws us into the story in such a way that we suddenly look around and realize we are no longer in the same place we began. Many of the great truths in scripture are revealed through powerful narrative and we, as the people of the Story are invited to find our place in that Story with each fresh retelling or rereading.

And this Story we find ourselves in is a grand epic that is greater than any of the stories that our culture attempts to lure us into.

Stories, even silly stories like the Magic TV, shape us and teach us about reality. They help us form our identity and make sense of things which at first glance seem like chaos.

When it comes to inspiring a community to begin moving together toward some goal beyond passive consumerism, story isn't the whole answer, but it plays an important role. If we want to call people to something bigger than themselves, we will do well to become better storytellers.

Often Steve and Crazy do things in a way that would seem strange to many people. They model for Conner and Micah a radical new way of living. This weekend I witnessed something in my boys and I wonder if it is directly attributable to the stories of a guy that is tall and a guy that is, well...crazy.

The boys and I went and played putt-putt for the first time. When we were finished we went into the nickel arcade (50 cents for half an hour of fun? I can do that!) Several of the games gave tickets - the kind you can trade in for cheap junk when you're done. We didn't really have enough to get anything so I suggested that maybe there were other boys and girls there who could use them more than us. I didn't really expect the response. Micah, my 4 year old, immediately began tearing off groups of 6 or 7 tickets and asking other kids if they would like them. "I want to make sure everyone gets some, Dad." Conner gave some to a couple guys and took the time to explain that yes, he wanted the tickets, but we didn't have that many and this way they could get an even cooler prize.

My kids are awesome. I think this story makes Jesus smile...and its a story that is definitely moving me somewhere.